The Last in Line (The Royal Inheritance Series Book 1) (10 page)

“See, nothing to it,” said Chase, but he exhaled as he turned to look out the window.

“You remained very composed,” said Roberts.

“I was petrified,” admitted Renee. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

“It will get easier,” he said.

Renee couldn’t imagine that happening, but kept silent. She didn’t say anything for the rest of the short drive to 10 Downing Street and tried to listen to Roberts’s running commentary on the people she was about to meet.

“The important thing to remember about being the queen is that you are above politics,” he was saying. “Whether you like or dislike a politician, or like or dislike a political party is unimportant. You don’t get yourself involved in political issues.”

“Got it. No opinion, no brain, no involvement,” said Renee.

“Excellent. Now we’ve got that sorted I can tell you that the Tories, while generally common-sensical, are completely ineffective. Labour is pushing towards full monetary Union and there are not a few among them that will be disappointed to see the monarchy continue as they view it as an outdated institution. Anything that emphasizes British sovereignty rather than diminish it is a negative in their eyes.”

Renee didn’t know what a Tory was or what Roberts meant by “Labor”. Was that the name of a person or did it refer to a labor union? And why would a labor union push for a union if they already had one? It didn’t make sense, but there wasn’t time to ask questions. “What do you think?” she asked Chase.

Chase smiled. “I am employed by the government.”

“Is that your way of saying you plead the Fifth?”

“The what?”

“The fifth amendment of the Constitution; the right not to incriminate yourself,” explained Renee.

“We don’t have that here, but essentially, yes.”

Renee wanted to press him further, but the car was pulling up to a curb. With a shock, Renee realized that they had arrived. She looked out the car window at an impressive white building.

“Wow, that’s got to be bigger than the White House!”

“No Ma’am, that is not the Prime Minister’s residence. That one is,” said Roberts and pointed out the window on the other side of the limousine.

“That little black brick building?” said Cassandra in disbelief, gazing out. “But it’s so small!”

“Americans,” sighed Roberts. “You have too much space over there. Everything is always oversized and McMansioned, isn’t it? Never judge a book by its cover.” He tapped his beakish nose and climbed out of the vehicle. Chase stood waiting to offer his hand to Renee to assist her out of the limousine. She had thought it was simply a courtly gesture, but when she wobbled in her high heels, she was grateful for his steadying hand. Cassandra bounded out behind her.

They were led to a black front door, which opened as they approached. It had a simple brass number 10 on it. The night was cold and Renee drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. At the end of the street, a flock of reporters were kept back by a removable metal fence and several guards. They shouted questions and took pictures, but fortunately, they were too far away for Renee to hear them. She smiled once in their direction—setting off a flurry of camera flashes—and then stepped inside where she was engulfed by light and warmth. The Prime Minister’s house. She was in a large foyer with a checkerboard floor. They were greeted by a pretty young lady.

“Right this way,” she said with a small bob of her head towards Renee. Clearly, the protocols for addressing her—an as yet unnamed heiress—were still uncertain. They followed her up a grand staircase that was lined with paintings of dour men and then photographs of more dour men and one woman. For Renee’s and Cassandra’s benefit the lady informed them that these were all the prime ministers that had lived in the house. They continued down a hallway and through several doors into a large, tall ceilinged room that was more elaborate than any she had ever seen. Antique tables and gilt chairs with velvet upholstery were in every corner of the room. But what caused Renee to suddenly lose her voice were the twenty or so individuals who were facing her as she entered. The ones who weren’t already standing, rose to their feet.

Chase whispered into her ear. “They’re just customers you haven’t met yet. Annoying, needy customers.” Her lips twitched into a smile.

“Mr. Prime Minister,” said the young lady, “may I present Mrs. Georgina Krebs.”

A short man with shrewd eyes and a salt-and-pepper mustache walked forward. He was built like a prize-fighter gone to seed. He, too, bobbed his head just as the pretty woman had earlier. “Mrs. Krebs, we are delighted to meet you.”

“It’s Renee,” she said and walked forward to pump his hand. Perhaps she had been too enthusiastic because to her embarrassment he did not return the gesture, but stared at her hand in his uncomprehendingly.

“Of course. You are not a queen yet.” He smiled and gave her hand a tiny shake. When his lips parted, she saw that his teeth were yellow around the gums. It made her double think her own nicotine craving. His hands were rough and his knuckles scarred as if he had been a boxer in his youth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…Renee. You can call me Sir Rufus.”

Renee heard Roberts cough quietly behind her and Renee smiled inwardly. She had the sense that Rufus was demonstrating his superiority over her. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had tried that. That thought gave her courage.

“Were you born a Sir?” she asked. Innocently, of course.

“I was knighted three years ago by the former queen,” explained Rufus. “Her passing has left us all in shock. She was peerless, you know.”

“From everything I’ve heard she was very impressive. I only ever saw her on television, though. In fact, I was watching on the day of the Reunion,” said Renee. She shook her head. “I still can’t believe it happened.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes. “And you really had no idea of your family’s roots?”

“None,” said Renee.

“Many people would kill to be in your place.”

His tone left something unsaid, something implicit and hanging in the air. She could sense Chase shift uncomfortably even though she couldn’t see him and it seemed the whole room was holding its collective breath.

“That’s insane, which a person would have to be to actually want this position,” said Renee.

Rufus cracked a smile. He stood back to look at her. “So you were a waitress? A real working class girl, then. You would have been a Labour voter.”

“I’m independent,” said Renee.

“And very diplomatic, too!” said a rotund little man who came forward to pump Renee’s hand. Renee liked him immediately. His skin was pink, whether from the warmth of the room or too much to drink from the wine glass in his hand she couldn’t tell, but it gave him a jolly appearance. His tufted hair was combed over. “I’m Alan Britchford, head of the Conservative Party. It is a delight to meet you, Ma’am.” He gallantly kissed her hand. “What can I get you to drink?” He steered her towards a table covered with bottles of liquor and glasses.

She had never been a wine drinker as it always gave her a headache and beer, somehow, didn’t seem appropriate here even if it was a fancy European brand. She eyed the champagne. The last time she’d tasted it was when Bryan, her boss, had gone on vacation to Lake Mead. After Bryan had wheeled his suitcase to his minivan and left, she, Brenda and Antonio had closed the restaurant an hour early and toasted his departure with a bottle obtained from the corner convenience store. They had each chipped in a $1.50 each. That was three years ago.

“I’ll have champagne, please,” she said and Britchford poured her out a glass. She paused to admire the rising bubbles and took a sip. It blew the convenience store bottle away. After Renee was set up, he poured sparkling cider for Cassandra who meekly mumbled, “Thanks.”

“So,” he boomed, “how are you finding England? Do you, uh, like it?” he tacked on at the end as if worried that the country wouldn’t be up to scratch. “It’s not even as big as your home state of Texas, not to mention the United States.”

“It’s an amazing place, but I haven’t seen too much of it yet; it’s been raining,” she admitted. “The weather here is terrible.”

This caused a round of nervous laughter and some head-shaking and she had the sense that she had committed a faux pas.

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of honest, English rain,” said Rufus as if the nation’s honor depended on it.

Britchford said loudly, “Tories and Labour don’t often see eye to eye, but if there’s one thing we can all agree on, it’s that we all despise typical English weather. Forget cricket, our true national pastime is complaining about the clouds and the rain.” Everyone nodded. “It’s not unpatriotic to take a vacation in Spain, is it? In France, perhaps, but not in Spain.”

Renee felt grateful for Britchford’s intervention. “I haven’t been to those places, but if it’s sun you’re looking for, Texas has an abundance. Nothing beats walking the beach at Galveston with the Gulf of Mexico washing around your feet.” She closed her eyes for a second and imagined she was there. When she opened them again Britchford was looking at her sympathetically. Renee hid her embarrassment at her little speech with a sip of champagne. “America is beautiful, there’s so much to see.” She felt like a travel agent.

Britchford did his best to keep the conversation going. “We’ll all have to take a jolly trip there. I did travel to California once—I have a cousin who got into making wind chimes and moved out there to raise goats and now he sells organic soaps and goat cheese—anyhow, when I visited him I made sure to detour to Hollywood and visit the Chinese Theatre. My feet are the exact same size as Tom Cruise’s. The exact size! It was wonderful to be able to walk down the street without a jumper and umbrella. Wouldn’t mind going back, to be honest.” Britchford stared down at his wine glass. “Now that I think of it, the wine is pretty good in California, too.” He sighed.

Renee had an image of him strolling down Hollywood Boulevard wearing sunglasses with a salmon colored sport coat slung over his shoulder.

The Prime Minister slapped Britchford on the back. “We’d be happy to make that retirement dream come true for you.”

“That won’t be happening anytime soon,” Britchford replied icily.

“Too bad. You could do with a spot of sun. Yes, yes, America is a great place and we’re reminded of that every time the President comes knocking for support on one thing or another,” said Rufus.

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly, Neville,” said Britchford. “We’ve got a special relationship to keep up and now with, you know…” he tipped his head in Renee’s direction, “I would say that connection is even more special than ever.”

“I wasn’t implying anything,” said Rufus. Rufus suddenly seemed to notice Chase who had dutifully shadowed Renee a few feet back as she moved about the room. “Philip, my good man, excellent work. You carried out your mission perfectly. You must be relieved to have a change of assignment soon.”

Renee whirled around and stared, wide-eyed. Change of assignment? He couldn’t leave! She didn’t know why that was important, but that’s what she felt.

Chase stammered as he answered. “I thought we should hold off on that a bit, at least until she’s settled into the royal residence and is acquainted with her new security personnel. We’ve already had a slight mishap with security and I’d like to stay and make sure everything is in place and functioning perfectly.”

Rufus nodded. “That’s probably wise.”

Renee relaxed and continued to be introduced to the people in the room, including a general and an admiral. Although these were the top people in government and tended to swallow their vowels and speak without moving their lips, she found most of them to be genuinely interesting and eager to make her feel welcomed. Everyone enjoyed her accent and asked her to say certain words such as “howdy,” a word she had rarely said in her life, but she had no problem obliging them. Soon the room buzzed with conversation and music and Cassandra even got a ride on the general’s back. Even Chase lost his solemn demeanor and laughed over a watered-down whiskey with Roberts. Renee excused herself to find a powder room. She found one down a hall tucked under a staircase. The laughter of the party seemed far away. She had just finished washing and drying her hands and opened the door to leave when she heard voices speaking low. She recognized Prime Minister Rufus’s voice. The other one sounded like his assistant. She quickly closed the door again leaving just a crack so she could hear. She frowned as she listened.

“The optics are incredible! Attractive, working class girl like that….” said the assistant.

“She’s got a strong will though…not likely she’d play along.”

“But she’s already playing along. Acts like she’s a queen already.”

“Yes, that’s the part I don’t like,” said Rufus. “Texans aren’t known for their pliability once they decide on something.”

“Well, there’s always the other one.”

“Yes, the other one. We’ll have to play that by ear.” Rufus sounded like he was chewing on a cigar while he spoke.

They moved off down the hall back to the party in the grand room. Renee didn’t know what they meant by “the other one.” Other what? Renee took a final glance in the mirror and made sure to adjust her worried expression into a serene smile, and then rejoined the party. Rufus and his assistant exchanged concerned looks when they realized she had not been in the party when they were speaking together. Clearly, they were trying to figure out if she had heard anything. That was their problem. She wasn’t going to let on to anything.